It's your funeral.

Independent Rp/Ask Blog for Overwatch's Jesse McCree. Oc and crossover friendly! Multiship and M!A accepted. Not too terribly picky as long as a character is portrayed well and some time and effort went into them. I would greatly appreciate it if you...

[dead-eye-blog1]

Like for a starter!

{ Headed to work, but figured I’d throw this on out there for when I get home! }

[ignisthepyro]

*HACKS TABLE*

[dead-eye-blog1]

ignisthepyro:

*hacker voice* I’m in!

[dead-eye-blog1]

out of ugly;

Been a loooong time since I’ve been here. Got a bunch of cleaning up to do!

[yukisamui-inactive]

Visit Original Link

i noticed almost every character in overwatch has supportive dialogue lines so i decided to put them all together in one massive audio post and i maybe… got a little too emotional

music: undertale - his theme by toby fox i got all the dialogue lines from here: x

[bihanny]

[dinomoder]

Originally posted by uffda898

[mobilesuit-pharah-blog]

We are Overwatch

[bxrmhxrzig-blog]

She held his gaze, one pale eyebrow arching up. At least it didn’t seem like McCree was going to give her grief just because he could. Everything else she could work with.

Her look was doubtful. She couldn’t really see with metal and cloth in the way and if she had learned one thing it was that trusting a patient’s - former or otherwise - word alone was foolish.

“And you are getting medical check ups regularly, yes?,” she pressed. Somehow she didn’t think McCree’s lifestyle had changed too much after his time with Overwatch. He was armored and armed.

Her lips thinned somewhat: “More or less. Usually it’s the people other people have a knack for putting before the wrong end of their guns.”

Small talk - well, she could work with that, she supposed.

“A stop on the way back to Switzerland to meet with a potential sponsor,” she answered, only briefly hesitating to decide if there was harm in letting him know, “That aside, there is always someone in need of a healer.”

A hand went to her head, to adjust the mop of hair that just wouldn’t stay in the neat ponytail she kept trying to tame it with: “What about you? As you said, this is no place for a vacation.”

[dead-eye-blog1]

“Regularly’s pretty strong word, ma’am.” No. Jesse hardly made it a habit to stop into any doctor and ascertain his condition. Mostly he took care of himself - often recalling the minor things the Doc may have aided him with in days of old. Every now and again he referred to cruder methods of aids, resulting in cauterization's and fish hook and wire to match to keep a wound closed. He did what was required to survive with what he had. Not that he’d voice any of his methods aloud - whether she cared enough anymore to scold him on his health, he wasn’t sure, but it was a possibility. Doctor’s were nuisances.

He listened to her. Full focus on her face, her eyes in particular as he seemed capable of locking and keeping his gaze there. If there was anyone to commend in the organization, it’d be Angela - countless lives were saved thanks to her. Even today, she still worked for the greater good. Saving lives others might think are lost to worms. Every now and then he found himself wishing she were around; or that, maybe he hadn’t abandoned the organization, likely leaving a nasty taste in most his companions mouths. Life might be easier then, but he could get by. Jesse McCree always found a way of getting by.

Still surprised she’d found herself in this dusty old town, he rolled his shoulders into a shrug and looked a ways up the road to see his horse tied off exactly where he’d left it. Good - that thing hadn’t been easy to break. “Collectin’ myself a bounty.” Padding a satchel tied at his waist, it clinked with the sound of coinage. “Got me ‘notherin’ to find. Small gang of thieves south of here holed up in a canyon. They got a hold of some steer. Figured I’d ride in, get em’ back for these folks.” Gesturing with a nod of his head toward the general area, he let his thumbs rest in his belt and took a more relaxed stance. 

[moogleshopkeeper]

Closed RP for dead-eye

There were some kinds of cargo that shouldn’t be left unprotected. The particular cargo that Hotephas was concerned went beyond that–he simply couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands. Unfortunately, he only had three guards, and he felt it best the demigod of war stay back aboard his ship. The two other guards certainly weren’t going to be enough on their own to deliver the experimental black hole generator all the way up a forested mountain path to a secured and specially fortified Overwatch research base. He had a distinct feeling Talon likely knew what he was going to deliver as well. 

Which is why he and Vincent approached McCree in a local tavern, in a town not even close to their destination. “Greetings, I’m Captain Hotephas and this is Vincent, one of my three guards. I’ve got a job for you if you’re interested.”

@dead-eye

[dead-eye-blog1]

To find McCree in a bar was unsurprising. They were a hollow love for the man; with bitter liquor and even more bitter women. All to coincide an atmosphere filled with smoke and the misplaced jaunty tune of a runned down piano. Something one might see straight out of an old western, or so this bar in particular was. The sort he favored if only because of the aesthetic. Most bars these days were full of ridiculously loud music that he could hardly understand. They were full of young punks and skanky women. Not that his favored spots were free of nuisances, but they saw more casual and elderly individuals than anything. So, that's where he was now. At a bar, glass of liquor cupped in one hand, a cigar in the other, with nothing more than a mind of idling thoughts to keep him company.

Until two men approached him that is. McCree just scowled and stared vacant ahead of him. He was hardly interested in introductions, only that there was a job proposition to be had. Finishing off the remainder of his drink, he turned to face the men; hard brown eyes stared them down, taking in their appearances - if and where they holstered a weapon. Rolling his cigar between his lips, he took a long puff and opened a corner to let the smoke seep out.

“What kin’ah job we talkin'? ...Better yet, what’re ya gon' be payin’?”

[dead-eye-blog1]

apex-wyverian

[apex-wyverian]

The female can’t help the expression on her face. What in the…? First of all, he’s armed. With.. almost comically tiny guns. Why are those guns so small? What sort of Gunner uses a tiny gun? This was monsters we were talking about here! Some of them revered as gods! Thankfully not this one, but still!

At least he seemed to be a good shot. There’s already sounds of pain. Hopefully those bullets hit a lot harder than expected, or he’ll run out of ammunition first. Jho hide is some of the toughest flesh around. It’s got to be, with the monster it comes off of. It’s a T. Rex. But it’s the biggest  T. Rex. And the angriest. And the hungriest.

It also shoots lasers. Wish that were a joke.

Either way, it seems he’s intent to kill it outright. Seems to be a Hunter after all. And if he’s another Hunter, she’s to be working with him. And like Teostra’s Fiery Balls she was going to be Carried by a tiny man with even tinier guns. Zamora finally hoists herself out of the underbrush to join the fray.

Unlike him, her weapon is.. less than conventional. A large bludgeon by the name of Clemency’s Peal. A cage on a handle, with secrets within. Where Peacemaker was McCree’s baby, her was this… gnarly looking thing. And it wasn’t even just a Hammer. It’s a Hunting Horn.

The female finally makes it over the hill, ears up and alert as her attention is drawn to the beast. Ah, good. Distracted. That gave her time. The Horn gives a rather unceremonious CLANG as it hits dirt, doors rattling against their hinges. The female leans and blows into the mouthpiece of the massive musical instrument, and one heaved breath causes doors to fly open, releasing a haunting and terrible wail.

The sound itself resembles the clanging of chains, the moans of the damned. As if Hell itself had cracked open to allow a choir of the dead to serenade the battlefield. But instead of sorrow and terror it brings…

For most, it feels like a cold chill run up one’s spine. A flash of light in the back of the eyes. And suddenly, you feel like you can run forever. Energy itself plowing through veins, it’s an odd feeling the first time around. And it’s a treat for everyone on the field that’s not a big nasty beastie, too! Rather helpful. And thus, part one of the Hunting Horn’s duty is done.

Now for Part Two.

Up comes the weapon, and digitigrade legs allow the female to come absolutely barreling down the hill. Nine feet and hundreds of pounds of muscle, with heavy metal prepped to swing at the part of the Jho she can reach. And hence, the rather popular description of this job.

Beat At It’s Ankles Until It Dies.

[dead-eye-blog1]

Much to McCree’s surprise - the beast wasn't so keen to jump back into attack mode. Whether it's attention span was truly just that abysmal, or it just couldn't see him now that the gunslinger had blasted out its eyeball, he wasn't sure. It did, however, move to snap up a few dead sow it spotted from its good eye some 30 yards away. Alright, that was a good note. This thing appeared to take food as priority over conflict, and he wondered if it cared to have lost an eye at all. Then, all at once there came a mournful sound. A wailing, not to far either. McCree had heard plenty of cries back in his Deadlock days. He heard screams of men and women, all begging for their lives when things grew just a little too dark that he personally couldn't muster the courage to recite the things he done. All chilling, terrible things - that's what the noise reminded him of. That and war, and it chilled him to the very bone. Made him feel… well, odd to say the least. Memories aside. He felt bolstered by the noise, like it'd been trumpeted to support rather than throw him off. Meanwhile, the monstrosity didn't take kindly to the horn. It roared and grunted between chops and went to turn in search of the irritant.

And then - good lord above, was that an Amazonian? McCree faltered at the sight of her. He felt too invigorated to even think he was seeing things. That woman looked about Zarya’s size, if not bigger. That weapon of her’s equally as intimidating as the way she trudged fervently toward the creature and started battering away at ankles. Woman had guts! Now, he sure as hell didn't intend on just standing around. An already reloaded Peacekeeper aimed for the beast's legs - shot after carefully placed shot was fired. Each one ripping away chunks in the same leg to coincide with the others physical onslaught.

The creature appeared to be in a fit. Screeching and flailing it's tail - at one point it turned just right and McCree was able to blast away it's only remaining eye, leaving it to the efficiency of its remaining senses. It's tail slung wildly, then all at once it stopped, lurched back, and released a dark stream of powerful energy. Was that… a laser? Head sweeping side to side, the stuff spread across the field and tapered over the hill McCree perched on. Behind a tree the man went, not that he was able to fully escape the attack as his good arm was badly singed - flesh bubbled and stung, but ultimately he was fine and dove back out to see the thing looking crazed. Jaws wide, it could only blindly snap at the ground around it, sometimes even slamming its head into a tree or earth as it tried catching anything within its powerful maw. For a moment he sought the form of the woman, uncertain whether she escaped the attack or not. It couldn't be helped if she hadn't as the creature was still to be dealt with, and as much as McCree sought to preserve innocent life, he couldn't do that if he was dead.

Back to shooting away at its leg - chunks of flesh and blood littered the ground around it. The wear and tear of that limb left it unbalanced, and the more it attempted to thrash and roar the more it bled. Finally, that leg gave way with a sickening snap of muscle, tearing and snapping as it collapsed, unable to hold itself up beneath tremendous weight on a wounded limb. Looks like their combined efforts paid off. Reloading Peacekeeper, he headed down the hill towards the target. All the while he remained vigilant, any sudden movements would spurn a reaction from the gunslinger. He'd seen man and beast play dead before, and this thing still writhed and snapped at nothing despite being downed.

[a4nara]

The Mystery Man 

Jesse Mccree

[zalonar]

well then

[crashboombanger-deactivated2018]

[kalmyovagina-deactivated2018052]

McCree… mccree everywhere…

“WINSTON ! WHAT DA FUCK DID U DO?!”- Tracer

[canardeur]

                   CROSSHAIRS READY, finger on the trigger of her Widow’s kiss. Crowded areas were her FAVORITE to play in. Even if the missed and wounded, maybe even KILLED another, she’d still feel the satisfaction , the STIMULATION, the dopamine pulse through her body and the SIGHT of any kind of target going down. Just the thought THE SHEER THOUGHT of that being achieved made her body hum, rolling her shoulders at the feeling TINGLING down her spine.

          Swaying her aim slightly to the right, going to play with her pray before slaying it. 

                                        “ Au Revoir, Cowboy. “ 

                                                                      She took the shot.

                                                                                       @dead-eye​

[dead-eye-blog1]

It was a good shot.

They were all good shots, or so read the stranger’s face from behind the game booth. The gentleman’s mouth was agape, eyes marveling at McCree’s sheer speed and precision with a mere toy rifle. What did he expect? That after duping kids all night, he’d be able to pull the same crap with a grown man, a gunslinger, no less. 

“Ought to sight this thing ‘n have it fire a round when ya actually pull the damn trigger. Not just e’ry other’n time.” Pulling the Peacekeeper, he simply set it on the counter and moved to fetch both cigar and lighter from his person. Children and parent alike crowded around him, some scrutinizing his face while younger onlookers cheered happily that someone finally beat out the shooting booth. “S’ festival to celebrate. Not steal kids money.” Cigar lit, and a puff later - he blew a cloud of thick gray smoke in the man’s face and tapped the heavy revolver he’d set down. “Giv’ em all a toy, or you’ll be missin’ a set a jewels here shortly, partner.” Terror devoured the operator’s face. While he scrambled for the toys, McCree slunk away sliding his weapon from the counter and back into it’s holster with practiced motion; the threat worked it’s wonders. 

Merging through some bewildered adults, he could hear the children’s cries of joy as they were frantically gifted with plush and water guns. Affording those brats a few minutes of his time felt worth it, but now he’d lost track of his bounty. A small price to pay. Given enough investigation he’d be back on the man’s trail in no time. Might as well start from the beginning - being a crowded square where bodies danced wildly to the colorful sound of mariachi. The sound almost swept him away, along with a lovely brunette whose passing tempted his gaze far too long. A look in his direction from the lass was met with a sultry smile and tip of the hat, and he moved forward into that temptation - then all at once, his sightly pleasure blossomed into pain. The cigar pinched hard between his lips and his arm of full flesh and blood went to grasp the opposite to find a nice hole was blown into the mechanical prosthetic. With the thing having a number of sensory receptors pertaining to all the major senses - he felt the pain and it hurt.

Sniper. 

A soundless shot; and it looks like he was the target. One lucky target. He dropped, pulled the Peacekeeper, and fired wildly into the air. All at once, the square was in panic. People darted all around him. The gunslinger kept low and raced for cover, the half-working prosthetic sparking in moving beside him. He kept mind on where his location was when shot - when he turned, everything. Through the safety of legs and waists, he made it into a store and hurried for the back. Upturning his serape he examined the shot. Someone was packing some heat, maybe a .45 caliber, though he wasn’t sure. That exit hole was pretty big, and the injury as a whole left him without a fully functioning apparatus. Handicapped would making hunting the sniper down difficult, but not impossible. Maybe it was rash and stupid, but McCree wasn’t about to let them get away with this. This arm piece wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to keep up, and now he’d likely need a new one! 

With any luck, his attacker would be persistent and follow through to the kill. Well, no point in standing around. Given the bullet hole, he had some idea of a direction to head. Ground wasn’t safe as it left him with blind spots. Time to take to the rooftops.

[erfrierung]

Its Highnoon

[dream-filmmaking]

I….. I don’t even know.

[rarazzy]

But I Sure as Hell ain’t Ugly - Jesse McCree Playlist

Playlist:

Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi // Warden - Alsmiffy // Remember When - Alan Jackson // A Horse with No Name - America // Fuck The Law - Bob Wayne // Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival // Wires - The Neighbourhood // Two Against One Ft. Jack White -  Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi //  The Crooked Kind - Radical Face

Listen Here

[blinkingbrit-blog]

OI MCCREES, LOOK AT THIS PLAYLIST I MADE, FUCKING TAKE IT. ]]

[snickerdooble]

CHYA DIDNT

[snockpuppet]

To all my fellow Overwatch fans out there, reblog this and tag with your fave Attack, Defence, Tank, and Support character!

It doesn’t have to be the one you’re best at, but the one you like most based on design, personality, etc.

[dead-eye-blog1]

escort the payload :: peace-in-the-iris

@peace-in-the-iris

Hollywood. He hated Hollywood.

Nothing but a bunch of washed up dogs trying to make a quick buck if you asked McCree. As irritated as he was to be here, it would act as the next location for his latest mission. He’d been hesitant to rejoin the organization. Even now, the anachronistic gunslinger was skeptical of his place in it’s reorganized ranks. If anything, this was more of an acquaintanceship. He wouldn’t declare his association outright, as that undoubtedly might cause uproar within the elements. The man wasn’t exactly a welcomed face. Many believed he was directly involved with rogue elements within Blackwatch, Overwatch’s former special ops division. Course, they didn’t know the full story, and half the time he didn’t bother to grace them with the truth. To say he’d even fully aligned himself with Overwatch again would be something reminiscent of inaccurate.

So, if only to make certain he could do some good and get some food in his belly, he was here. A part of him felt his skills were being put to waste. After all, the man was trained to be a cold-blooded killer destined for the nastiest missions, but, as it stands, he was demoted to body guard. Again, yes - this was for the greater good. Whoever he was waiting for was a celebrity symbol to the people, both human and omnic alike. He tore down barriers and brought up issues, he rattled and belittled Talon in his works. If he went down; he’d die a martyr, but the world would lose a little more hope. At least, that’s what McCree read in the report. Never did fancy all these recent films; he was more a man of the past, watching old cowboy shows featuring John Wayne. Stuff like Bonanza and Tombstone were more entertaining for him. Hell, he even loved M.A.S.H. Not that he watched a whole lot of television, but every now and then when he found himself in a quiet bar, he’d change the channel to suit his fancy.

He was early, and slightly agitated at the fact. The director wasn’t here yet, neither was the partner McCree was assigned - who, was still a mystery to him which only added further to his agitation. It was a late assignment deal, so he hadn’t had time for briefing. Now he was left in the dark wondering if he’d be paired with a veteran, like himself, or some green-thorn who could hardly lace up his own boots.